I'm NOT with her
by Iremray of the Darkened S
Summary: I do NOT want to be in Middle Earth, and especially not with that PREP. However, in Middle Earth I am, and it's all the fault of glitter nail polish. Accursed stuff. NOT your ordinary Mary Sue, if indeed a Mary Sue at all.
1. Of nail polish and slugbugs

Disclaimer- Lord of the Rings belongs to JRR Tolkien, and everyone willing to pay him royalties. I only own my character. I don't even own Angelica, who is, sadly enough, an actual person.  
  
Purple glitter nail polish. Four layers. Is that how this all got started? Oy. Something like that. Maybe it's just my natural charisma. More oy.   
  
It was rather pretty.  
  
I just got bored. So I spent half-an-hour slathering on the polish. I had no idea that half-an-hour spent inhaling fumes would lead to a blow-out with a prep, which somehow lead to . . . Middle Earth?  
  
Call it a dream. Call it insanity. Call it too much time over the nail brush.   
  
All I know is . . . I still have the scars.  
  
Yes, and the rock. I know, I'm a horrible thief. It was just sitting there! Besides, I'm pretty sure Elrond knew I took it, and he never said anything!  
  
Confused? Good. You need to be somewhat addled to take this seriously.   
  
  
  
So you know about the nail polish. It all started with the nail polish. Pretty things have always made me act . . . odd. Not usual odd, like reciting poetry, but insane odd, like if I don't destroy its prettiness, I will not live.  
  
I didn't want to destroy the nail polish.  
  
So I decided to end my life.  
  
As I was walking toward Spanish, I spotted a Volkswagen Beetle. I was walking behind a prep. You can imagine what happened next . . .  
  
"Ahaha! Slugbug candy apple red!"   
  
The prep screamed, and spun around, clutching her 'slugged' shoulder.  
  
"Whoa, you're ugly." I really did have a death wish. For a moment she couldn't speak. I waited for the return insult, wearing an expression that my brother has dubbed the "butter-won't-melt-in-her-mouth" expression. My youth group leader hates it. The prep, Angelica, didn't like it much either. In fact, it bugged her so much that all should could say was, "Who the hell do you think you are?!"  
  
I took a bow, knowing I would regret this for the rest of my very short life. "I am the Clearseer, and I rule all I survey!"  
  
She regained enough of her composure to look haughty, but before she could make any uppity remarks, I made one of my own.  
  
"You know, a plastic surgeon could clear that right up for you."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"That look on your face, like you've got a stinkbug superglued to your nose."  
  
"Why you little . . . jew!"  
  
I ignored the remark as I am, in fact, Jewish. It's rather a weak jab.  
  
"Of course, if my face looked like that, I would probably have a similar expression." These tactics only work, of course, because I had caught Angelica off guard, and because Linn-Mar High is not known for its especially intelligent blondes. All you have to do is dye your hair blond, and your IQ drops about twenty to a hundred points. The natural blondes are actually smarter.1  
  
Right about now her face was contorting into the grotesque. All that eye-makeup was not helping. Are they trying to make their eyes look like they're sinking into their skull? Of course, I shouldn't insult her appearance, since I am decidedly less than Cover Girl. Getting rid of the dark circles and a few(dozen)pounds would probably solve it, but thanks to my weirdo eyes, I shall forever be strange looking.  
  
Angelica decided that the time for words had ended, and struck out with a typical bitch-slap. Having spent fifteen of my sixteen years on this earth with at least one brother(and their highly aggressive friends), I was used to far worse, and able to evade even more, so it was quick work to dodge under her blow and vault over the handrail of the extremely superfluous four steps that led to the not-much-lower level. However, Angelica was out for blood, and despite the usual clumsiness of our cheerleaders(I have seen them walk straight into pillars, eyes open, looking right ahead), she was rather athletic, and vaulted right after me. I dove under the stairs, and had only a moment to wonder why I was doing so, since the area under the stairs is bricked off, but instead of shattering my skull across stone-and-mortar, I flew into the darkness, Angelica screaming behind me.  
  
  
  
1 No offense to any blondes reading this(unless you are actually from Linn-Mar High, in which case you deserve it). 


	2. Of marysues and and motley crews

Disclaimer - I do not own Lord of the Rings(unless you count the four DVDs and the five books, and the bookmark, and the pictures, and the belt buckle(which is kick-ass, but actually belongs to my dad), and THE ONE RING!(yeah, it's actually a napkin ring, but let's not nit-pick). Lord of the Rings belongs to the late JRR Tolkien, and people with money(lucky people).   
  
Author's note - I am torn between following the book and following the movie, which is why . . . well, you'll see.   
  
It was a darkness like nothing else. I don't mind the dark, but this was . . . otherworldly. It swallowed the screams. We were falling.  
  
I hate falling.  
  
I don't even like jumping out of trees.  
  
I hate the feeling you get when you're lying down, almost asleep, and then you feel yourself falling forward, and you jump awake. This was exactly like that, except there was nowhere to jump . . .  
  
Screams turned to sobs, and the jump came. One moment I was falling, the next, I was leaping upwards from a bed of leaves. I shook my head, trying to clear it, to prove myself back in school, with a bad headache from knocking my head against the wall, but the dream didn't end. I raised a hand to my face, and started. That was not my hand.   
  
My hands were large, with square palms and just-so fingers. I'd recognize them anywhere. Not here. These were long, slender, white, with fingers that were not just-so. They were perfect. The trend was continuing up my arm. Where was the hair?! The dark hairs that were a definite feature? Where are the freckles, the fat?! Don't get me wrong, I'm not a behemoth, but I'm not what you'd call slim, and this was definitely slim.   
  
I sat up, and reached round for my bag. No dice, or rather, no bag. Panic was beginning to set in. No bag, wrong body, wrong clothes! I own maybe, what, one dress? I certainly don't wear it to school, and it is certainly not this dress. This was . . . nice. It was brown and blue and it fit. I took quick notice of the knife hanging from a belt . . . a very nice belt, and its presence gave me an odd comfort. Hey, as long as I can maim something, probably myself, I'm happy.  
  
I looked at my hand again. The nail polish was gone. Damn. It was pretty. It was also what got me into this mess. Speaking of mess . . .  
  
"What the hell is going on?!" Yes, my prom princess had followed me to this . . . place. She looked fantastic. Her typically short, ironed-flat-and-crispy blond hair was now long, full, and shiny - healthy shiny, not I've-got-so-much-gel-in-my-hair-it's-driving-my-neck-into-my-chest-through-sheer-weight-shiny. And her face - it was Mary-Sue gorgeous, without makeup. Big blue eyes, full lips, pale as a cloud with a faint blush . . . wait a minute. Mary-Sue?  
  
"Oh my God," I whispered. There was a lake nearby(quite convienently, ah, the joys of authoring). I stared into a reflection that was not mine. A delicate face with a pointed chin and actual defined cheekbones looked up at me, not round, like it should have been. Gone were the dark circles and any sign of acne or freckles. Even the scar next to my eye, where I had once cut a small piece of skin out with a pair of scissors was gone. My dark hair was even longer than usual, all the way to my waist, lush and full, and for the first time in history, free of tangles and split-ends.   
  
In the name of wonder, I was a Mary-Sue.  
  
Except for one thing . . . my eyes. They were my own. They're nice enough on their own, big, long dark lashes, but they are not Sue eyes. Sue eyes are true blue, or emerald green, or jet black, or deep, soulful brown. Mine were still their bizzare hazel. Ring of bittersweet, ring of faceted green with blue-green crescents, ring of faceted gold, ring of solid dark pine green. Somethings are too strong even for magic to change, I suppose, whatever foul magic had made me what I am.  
  
"I saaaiiiiiiiiiidd, what the hell is going on?!" I looked back at Angelica, and found myself unconciously gripping my knife. She was too pretty, and my instincts were taking hold. 'Destroy the beauty,' a voice whispered in my mind, 'don't let it live.' Another one, deeper and more horrible hissed, 'No. Destroy yourself. See what you have become. Ruin it.' I shook my head again.  
  
"It would appear, o loud and annoying one, that we have been transported into another dimension."  
  
"What the hell does that mean, and why the hell do you look like that?!"   
  
"Well, I can see what the word of the hour is," I muttered, and then, louder, "It means, sweetheart, that we are no longer in our school, nor likely on our world."  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"I look like I do because of an odd but binding clause that says that no girl can be transported into another world without first becoming the epitome of human perfection." Even my glasses were gone, but my sight was crystal clear.  
  
"Shut up and speak English, you geek!" She was freaking out. If her mind couldn't twist its way around this problem, it could break.  
  
"It's magic, okay?! Magic! Magic that makes you gorgeous! Take a look!" I gestured at the pool. She rushed over, and nearly tumbled into the pool when she saw her new Sue look.  
  
"That's not possible. There's no such thing as magic!"  
  
I ignored her. Time to find out where the bleedin' hell we were. Damn. She's rubbing off on me.  
  
I took a step forward, and two things happened at once. Angelica, in supremely-pissed-off-bitch mode, tackled me from behind, and as I dove forward to roll her off, a horse leapt over me. Shaking the screaming brat off of me(admittedly adding a scream of my own), I stood up and watched the white horse fly like the devil himself was making chase. Two riders clung gamely to its back, a young woman with long dark hair, and a child of indeterminate gender at that speed. It looked oddly familiar, a sensation driven deeper by the four black horses that leapt from the trees. However, said riders forced me to leap into action myself, leaving me with little time to make any revelations. I grabbed Angelica and performed what later I considered an extremely cool move. Just as the four horses of the apocalypse were about to make us so much tree fodder, I threw myself back into a backwards somersault, tucking myself around Angelica so that she rolled back with me, out of harm's way.  
  
Cool it may have been, but my shoulders did NOT appreciate it. Neither did Angelica.   
  
"What the hell was that about, you fag?!"   
  
Damn, what does a girl have to do to get some gratitude around here?   
  
"In case you didn't notice the fell beasts that nearly turned us into two very lovely PANCAKES back there, I was trying to save your worthless life!"  
  
"How dare you." She stood up and flipped her hair, frowned at the result, and flipped it again. Sorry, hon, but long hair does not flip. "Just because some mistake has been made and you're suddenly pretty doesn't mean you can go all Trinity on me."  
  
"You moron. Don't you have the slightest idea where we are?!"  
  
"Stop calling me a moron!" Moron, that's the first time I called you one. "I'm going to find a telephone."  
  
"Good luck. We're-"  
  
"Shut up! Stop talking. We are in the middle of the woods, my clothes have been stolen, and replaced with these rags, and I am stuck with the biggest outcast in the school, who has been trying to KILL me, AND I've broken at least three nails. I am going to find some civilidation, and I'm going to find it now!"  
  
"Right, you're going to find civiliDation like you're going to get an Meducation in Psychology(actual quote from a prep at my school, "I'm here to get a meducation,"). Angelica, we are-"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Stop telling me to shut up, you cloth-eared bint!"  
  
While all this had been going on, a rather motley crew had burst out of the trees behind us. Angelica spotted them and fell(mercifully)silent. I felt all words escape me too.  
  
Three very short people, two very tall people, all male. The little people had my attention. Curly hair, pointed ears, large bare feet covered in fur. Oh dear, I was right . . .  
  
Naturally, the two taller men had Angelica's attention. One, which she disregarded immediately, had the decidely mangy appearance of someone who could use a good bath(or seven). However, the other . . .  
  
"Oh. My. God. He's HOT!" she hissed in my ear, making me wince. I HATE it when people do that. They have no appreciation of sensitive hearing.   
  
Lessee. Long blond hair, regal appearance, and glamour. Yup. He's one pretty guy.   
  
He's also an elf.  
  
"By all the powers that be(yes, I do talk like this). We are in Middle Earth." 


	3. Of clairvoyance and forgotten knowing

"I don't want to be here," I said suddenly.  
  
"I don't know if I ever want to leave," Angelica returned, eyes never leaving the elf. I gave her a look.  
  
"Try not to drool, kiddo. You may be a Mary-Sue, but he's living side-by-side with the reincarnation of Luthien Tinuviel. You're a gutter rat next to her," I muttered, walking up to the group, which was approaching us warily, though they were clearly in a great hurry.  
  
I had no idea what I was going to say, but I knew one thing for certain, I wasn't saying it to the one with the pointed ears. My ESP was taking heavy damage from his magical aura, and besides, the 'destroy all beauty' voices were getting louder by the minute, and I was armed. So I angled toward Monsieur Scruffy instead, forcing myself to forget that I knew the majority of his personal history, pretty much only falling short of his dental records.  
  
Now if I could just stop "All that is gold does not glitter/Not all those who wander are lost" from running through my head, I'd be just fine.   
  
I planted myself in front of the Ranger(no, stop, you don't know that!), noting with some distaste that our favorite cheerleader(sure)had done similarly with Glorf(no! you don't know anything!). However, looking into those inquisitive grey eyes, I found my senses assaulted from all sides.   
  
First of all, there was the smell. I have never been partial to wood smoke, sweat, and dirt. I'm more of a light aftershave, maybe a touch of Old Spice favorer. My poor, sensitive nose was screaming at me. Plus there were the vibes from the worried Elf-lord. I'm well known for being a little more than clairvoyant, and I'm highly susceptible to magical fields. This place and that elf were dripping with power. Top it off with the fact that I'd just become one of the first two people to travel inter-dimensionally, been forced out of my body and into another, had voices in my head telling me to go Jeffrey Dahmer on everyone, and I had to put up with Linn-Mar High's head crone, well, let's just say there's only so much one girl can take.   
  
I took a deep breath, bad idea, more smell, and tried to come up with a lie.  
  
No such luck.  
  
In a time like this, there's only two things a girl can do. One of them is cry, something I'm rather adept at, but hesitant to use on a first meeting. So I went with the only other option.  
  
I fainted dead in his arms.   
  
The last thing I heard was Angelica asking, "How long have you had pointed ears?"   
  
Hopefully they'll assume she's just insane. 


End file.
